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“Where?”
“Here in Dublin. But he may no longer be an asset to your work. He’s grown dangerously unstable. Has strayed from your purpose.”
“We shall have to remind him of his indebtedness to us. It’s rare to be given a second turn upon life’s wheel.” He ran a tongue over his lips, his hands curling into fists as he relived their last cautionary encounter. This time Lazarus would realize his gratitude. Or suffer still greater agonies than previously.
“He could still be useful.”
“In what way?”
“He’s formed an attachment to the Douglas girl that could be valuable if played correctly.”
“Has he?” Máelodor’s smile stretched his sagging skin taut. “Perhaps his game may be deeper than we know.”
Leaning against his staff, he groped to rise, his frailties slowing him to a snail’s crawl. His body weakened, every day a new pain. Every night an empty hole where a piece of his soul used to be. It would all be worth it, though. When Arthur bowed before him in sun-rayed splendor. When the Duinedon scattered before the combined might of the Fey-born Other until surrender or slaughter was their only choice. When Arthur, with Máelodor at his side, presided over a new golden age, none of the aches and embarrassments of his broken body would matter.
He would succeed where the Nine had failed.
It would truly be his golden age.
But until then—“Assist me to my carriage.”
St. John hurried to his master’s side, guiding him down the narrow stairs. Across the hall and out to the waiting barouche. A break in the rain had thickened the crowds. Máelodor leaned heavily upon St. John to keep from being knocked down by the rushing passersby. Gentlemen with umbrellas, bundled against the damp. Women in dark woolens, their hats and bonnets drooping against the drizzle.
A woman in black, her face obscured by a heavy mourning veil brushed past him, shooting a tingle of mage energy up his arm where they touched. He glanced back, but she’d disappeared into the swarm of pedestrians, and then the coachman was there. Opening the door. Letting down the steps. Bundling Máelodor into the warmth of the carriage.
St. John bent close. “I shall not let you down.”
Máelodor let the full force of his power harden in his
gaze. “See that you don’t.”
“You can’t, Sabrina. They’ll find out,” Jane pleaded.
“They won’t find out anything.” Sabrina turned a deaf ear and continued stuffing her satchel. Extra gown. Pair of slippers. Two shifts, a shawl, and a third pair of stockings. Looked around for anything she might have missed. “I’ve arranged it all.” Removed the shawl. No room. “Aidan and Cat think I’m leaving with Aunt Delia for Belfoyle. They agree I should get away and rest.” In other words, retire as far away from Dublin and any hint of scandal as soon as possible. “And Aunt Delia believes I’ve taken suddenly ill and must remain here. She’s leaving for Bray to visit a friend of hers.”
“You put that idea in her head, didn’t you?”
“I might have hinted, but she was more than happy to go. I think she’s had it up to her ears with Aidan’s black looks every time they meet. She’s never forgiven him for breaking that statue of Ares in the drawing room. Swears it was on purpose. I think she’s kept the pieces.”
Jane giggled before stifling it behind a suitably stern look. “I still don’t think this is a good idea. How will you travel? Where will you stay along the way? What will people think? Lord and Lady Kilronan will kill me when they find out. And I’m too young to die.”
Sabrina ticked off her answers on her fingers. “One—I’ll go by mail coach. It leaves from Sackville Street every evening. Two—I have money enough to pay the fare and extra for food and lodging. Three—People will think whatever they want to think. And four—I’ll write telling Aidan where I am once I reach Glenlorgan.” She huffed the hair from her eyes. Stood back, studying her satchel. Did she take enough? Too much?
“At least let me come with you. I can be ready in a half hour.”
“I need you to stay behind to allay any suspicions. Tell them I’m not well and need to be left alone.”
“And when they discover you missing?”
“Claim you didn’t know anything about it. Or that I threatened you with physical harm if you told.”
Jane twisted her handkerchief in her hands as if she wrung a neck. Probably Sabrina’s. “Can’t you simply ask Aidan to take us back himself and save all this subterfuge?”
“I have. And he refused. More than once. He’s said a return to the bandraoi is out of the question. He wants me at Belfoyle where I can be properly looked after. His idea of properly being a guard at my door, meals of bread and water, and Aidan prowling the house like a fire-breathing gor—dragon.”
Dragons breathe fire. Gorgons turn you to stone.
She swallowed back tears. Ard-siúr had termed Daigh a wounded animal. Warned Sabrina what would happen if she followed her heart and tried to save a man who was beyond saving. She’d no one to blame but herself if her life lay scattered and broken around her.
